Meanwhile, Ophelia's battle raged on.
The robed mage was stunned when he realized his black mist had been rendered useless. He had never imagined his most adept spell could be dispelled so effortlessly by this girl. Could it be that the young woman before him was a mage herself?
Doubts swirled in his mind, but the mage did not hesitate. Instead, he immediately unleashed another one of his signature spells. Bright, magic-infused flames coalesced in his palms. He fixed his gaze on the distant girl, then thrust his hands forward. In the next instant, the blazing fireball roared toward her with deafening force.
This move alone revealed the gap in their combat experience. The robed mage had keenly seized the split second when Ophelia lost track of his whereabouts and was left disoriented to launch his second attack. From their earlier skirmish, he already knew the terrifying power of her whip—if he engaged her head-on, she would likely interrupt his spellcasting before he could finish. Thus, he was determined to seize every opportunity to strike, using his attacks to keep himself safe.
But Ophelia clearly lacked experience fighting against mages. The first attack had not harmed her, but she had also failed to pinpoint his location. Her innate sensitivity to magic had given her a vague sense of where he was, but by the time she turned to face the direction of the concentrated magical energy, it was already too late. All she saw was a fireball, growing larger and larger in her vision.
"Oh no!"
Caught off guard by the incoming fireball, Ophelia stumbled backward in alarm. The metallic wing-like plates that had been spread out beside her snapped shut instantly, forming a shield in front of her.
Too late!
Noticing her move, the robed mage sneered coldly. He had been fully prepared and had seized the initiative—there was no way this girl could dodge his attack now. What's more, he had already realized she was a complete novice on the battlefield, with no experience whatsoever fighting mages. He wondered why someone so inexperienced had been sent to lead this assault, but now was not the time to dwell on that question. He could ponder it after the battle was won.
But then, the robed mage's eyes widened in shock.
The fireball struck Ophelia's body exactly as he had anticipated—but instead of exploding in a fiery blast, it simply dissipated the moment it made contact, like a gust of wind sweeping past her.
This was no metaphor—it was the stark truth. The mage stared in disbelief as the scattered flames turned into streaks of light, brushing gently against the girl's body before vanishing completely into the air. He was utterly baffled.
What in the world is happening?
He racked his brain, unable to comprehend why his spell had simply vanished into thin air. Could she have known there would be a mage here and come equipped with anti-magic gear? But even anti-magic equipment had telltale signs. The girl's armor was certainly odd, but he had not detected even the faintest trace of a protective spell activating. How was this possible?
But the tide of battle would not allow him to linger on these questions. For at that moment, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air—the black whip was coming for him!
Ophelia lacked experience, but she was far from foolish. If she had been unable to locate her enemy even after being attacked, Black would never have trusted her to lead the mercenaries into battle.
And now, Ophelia was finally launching her first real attack on the battlefield!
"This is bad!"
The robed mage's heart skipped a beat. He knew this black whip was unnaturally long and blisteringly fast—and he had no idea how she controlled it. Logically, wielding such a long whip should require sweeping, exaggerated movements, but the girl barely moved at all. With just a flick of her wrist, the whip came hurtling toward him at lightning speed. The mage could not help but wonder—could this be some new type of magical weapon developed by Westerland?
"BOOM!!"
Fortunately for him, the robed mage's combat experience far surpassed Ophelia's. Before casting the fireball, he had already positioned himself in the safest spot possible. Thus, even when the attack came, his instincts kicked in—he ducked down instinctively, narrowly evading the whip's deadly strike. Ophelia's attack missed its target by a hair's breadth, slamming into the wooden hut behind him and reducing it to splinters.
But the robed mage felt no trace of triumph. On the contrary, he was scared out of his wits!
The reason was simple: as the whip brushed past him, the protective enchantment woven into his robe activated instantly in response to the threat. Normally, it should have been able to block or even deflect the attack. But the mage never expected that the moment the whip made contact, he would feel his robe's protective spell being *disintegrated*!
Yes—not broken, not dispelled, but utterly and completely dissolved, erased from existence. The once-impenetrable protective magic had crumbled like a snow sculpture under a gentle push, reverting to nothingness. And that was not all—the mage even felt the magic stored in his robe draining away completely, and his own personal magical reserves being siphoned away, weakening bit by bit.
And this was just from a *near miss*!
In that instant, cold sweat broke out across the mage's back. Ever since the first day he had learned magic, he had been warned repeatedly that mages were far from invincible. In fact, there was one type of existence that was a mage's worst nightmare.
Shadow affinity!!
The robed mage had no desire to fight anymore. He pressed himself flat against the ground, daring not even to breathe loudly. Though the girl still looked as beautiful and delicate as ever, in his eyes, she was nothing less than a ferocious, clawed monster.
No wonder the fireball hadn't exploded earlier! He had been so confused—even if she had somehow blocked the fireball, it should have detonated on impact. Now it all made sense: the fireball had been disintegrated the moment it came into contact with her shadow affinity power! That was why there had been no reaction at all!!
What do I do now? What can I do?
As a mage, he had a dozen different ways to escape—but right now, he did not dare to use a single one of them. Fear of the shadow affinity had completely overridden his earlier assessment of Ophelia's inexperience. He had completely forgotten his correct judgment of the girl's lack of battlefield skills, because one warning had been drilled into his mind ever since he began studying magic:
*Never cast any magic in the presence of a shadow affinity wielder—otherwise, death is the only fate awaiting you!*
Should he run?
The robed mage gritted his teeth. He was not physically strong, nor was he fast on his feet. And the girl's whip was clearly far faster and more powerful than he was. He had no doubt that if he tried to flee, that whip would turn him into a bloody pulp in an instant.
With that thought, he glanced around nervously, confused. Normally, those brainless Cyclops would come charging at the first sound of trouble. But it had been quite some time since the battle began, and he had not seen a single one of them. What on earth was going on?
What the robed mage did not know was that at that very moment, a bizarre and unimaginable battle was unfolding at the entrance to the Cyclops tribe's encampment.
The towering Cyclops were already lying scattered across the ground, reduced to lifeless corpses. All around them, the orc mercenaries had formed a perfect encirclement, trapping the remaining enemies and moving in for the final strike.
"I can't believe this…"
Gripping his twin swords tightly, the orc mercenary captain muttered in astonishment.
In truth, the orc mercenaries had not received any complex orders from Ophelia. On the contrary, every command she had given them had seemed strangely simplistic. For example, the order the captain had received was straightforward: "Upon hearing a loud explosion, immediately lead your unit ten meters into the entrance and engage the enemy."
Though he had no idea what the young lady was planning, the mercenaries had followed her orders without hesitation. The moment they heard the deafening crash, they charged forward, advancing exactly ten meters as Ophelia had instructed.
And then, they saw the enemy—turning around in panic, scrambling to flee back toward the heart of the encampment.
It was the perfect timing. The Cyclops had just turned their backs, their full attention fixed on the commotion ahead, completely oblivious to the threat behind them. At that precise moment, the orc mercenaries struck, catching them completely off guard. The advantage instantly tilted overwhelmingly in their favor. And as a battle-hardened mercenary captain, he knew exactly what to do next.
So he gave the order to attack.
Naturally, the ambushed Cyclops fought back immediately. Despite being caught off guard, the monsters were strong, numerous, and quickly began to turn the tide of the battle. The orc captain could only grit his teeth and hold on. After luring the Cyclops to the predetermined location as Ophelia had ordered, he had no choice but to lead his men in a desperate defensive stand. For Ophelia's orders had ended there—she had not given them any further instructions. Thus, the captain had assumed the young lady's plan was simply to catch the enemy off guard and annihilate them in one swift strike.
But the gap in strength between the two sides was just too great.
The mercenaries possessed mid-tier combat power and could manifest protective auras, so they had suffered few casualties. But their attacks were barely enough to faze the massive, sturdy Cyclops, who boasted incredible regenerative abilities. The fight quickly devolved into a brutal stalemate.
But then, the orc captain was stunned to see another squad of mercenaries rushing to reinforce them, charging into the fray at an odd angle and splitting the Cyclops ranks apart with surgical precision.
Instantly, the pressure on his men eased dramatically.
But this was only the beginning.
Shortly after, a third squad arrived, charging in from another flank. With their arrival, the encirclement was fully formed. The three units not only scattered the Cyclops, weakening their fighting power, but also maximized their own advantages. By the time the formation was complete, the threat posed by the Cyclops had been neutralized entirely.
When the captain asked the other squad leaders why they had arrived exactly when they did, their answers left him utterly astounded. For the two squad leaders had no idea what they were doing either—they had simply followed Ophelia's orders to advance a certain number of meters from two different directions and then engage the enemy.
The orc captain immediately understood what this meant. The young lady had anticipated every move the enemy would make before the battle even began—and had formulated a counterplan to match.
But was this even possible? How could she have predicted the actions of these unfamiliar Cyclops in this unfamiliar environment?
The orc captain had no answers. But as the last Cyclops fell to the ground, and flames erupted behind them, consuming the encampment, he knew the battle was already won. There was no longer any doubt about that.